A Tortured Knight
by DandelionViolet
Summary: Sir Gwaine has been captured while acting as a decoy for King Arthur. King Odin has threatened to torture him to get him to reveal Arthur's plan of attack. Gwaine isn't worried; he can withstand all manner of pain. Unfortunately, this torture isn't painful, and he knows he is in trouble. Still deciding where to take the next chapter...
1. Chapter 1

Sir Gwaine paced anxiously around the small, dark cell, wondering how soon he would learn his fate. After King Arthur had heard that King Odin had violated the terms of their peace treaty, he had made the rather easy decision to attack and rid the land of this vile king once and for all. He had already been granted permission to approach Odin's lands by way of Nemeth instead of the usual, shorter route, but he'd needed a decoy to distract Odin's patrols. Gwaine and two other knights had volunteered to act as decoys and had set out to complete their task. They had been successful in drawing Odin's attention away from Arthur's true intentions, but unfortunately, the two other knights had been killed and Gwaine captured.

After several minutes of exchanging heated taunts with his captive, an angry King Odin had brought his face tight against the bars of the cell to hiss at Gwaine, "I'm no fool; I know that Arthur intends to launch an attack, and I know that you know his plans."

With a derisive snort, Gwaine had interrupted, "Your intelligence knows no bounds, does it?"

Odin's face had grown purple with rage. How dare this insolent cur insult him? In a low voice intended to intimidate his foe, he threatened, "I also know that before this night is through, you will inform me of Arthur's plans."

Gwaine laughed out loud and sneered in reply, "I would die before I betrayed my king."

Odin grinned maliciously and stepped away from the cell. "Don't worry, Sir Gwaine. That shall come to pass, but not before I get what I want from you." Drawing himself up to his full height, he searched Gwaine's eyes for even a hint of fear. When he saw none, he turned to go, but then looked over his shoulder to add, "I have in my service men and women skilled in the art of torture. They will find your weaknesses and use them to my benefit. Before this night is through," he repeated. "You will talk."

Now Gwaine waited.

He did not have to wait for long. Within minutes of Odin's departure, two men and a woman came purposefully down the passageway towards his cell. The men were even larger than Percival, and they had none of Percival's kindness or friendliness in their demeanor. As Gwaine sized them up, he realized there was enough strength between them to break him in two if they chose, but oddly, they weren't the ones Gwaine was worried about. His eyes drifted to the frail-looking old woman who barely came up to his wore an oversized black cloak that hid all but her gnarled hands and her face. His scalp prickled with foreboding as his dark eyes met her malicious, frosty-blue ones, and he was certain she was a sorceress. Just what form of torture was in store for him?

The guards unlocked the cell door to let the three figures in. To his irritation, Gwaine had to fight the urge to take a step backwards. The old woman smiled, showing crooked, yellowed teeth and said simply, "Prepare him."

Gwaine was grabbed roughly by the dark-haired behemoth while the other, a bald-headed, tattooed behemoth, stripped him of his chain mail, his linen undershirt and his boots. He struggled with all his might to break free and escape, but even his strength was no match for theirs. When they were finished with him, he was thrown roughly face first against the wall; his hands were shackled above his head, and his ankles were chained to the floor Over his shoulder, he saw one behemoth draw out a whip, while the other pulled out a club and leered maliciously at him. So, they thought they would beat a confession out of him, eh? He smirked defiantly over his shoulder at them.

The old woman suddenly appeared at Gwaine's side. Some of his defiance fled as she regarded him. She ran a gnarled hand down his muscled tricep, past his armpit and over his exposed ribcage, making him flinch and grunt. Her eyes met his sharply, and a low, evil cackle escaped her lips as she said, "Sir Gwaine, one of Camelot's bravest, strongest knights." She turned to the behemoths and continued, "This one will not respond to physical pain. We'll need to resort to…" She ran her hand across his stomach, letting her nails lightly graze the skin there, causing a sharp intake of breath. "…other measures."

He hoped his mounting anxiety wasn't reflected in his eyes as she held his gaze for a moment before stepping back to allow the behemoths to approach him. Beads of sweat broke out across his forehead as the dark-haired behemoth laughed and snarled, "We'll have the information we need within the hour."

In a final show of defiance, Gwaine spat, "I will die first."

"You'll die laughing," the behemoth retorted, digging his fingers into the knight's fully-exposed ribs.

Gwaine's eyes flew open wide in horror as he realized what form his torture would take. He clenched his jaw as tightly as he could and held his breath, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to clear his mind of the maddening sensation. It was no use. His mind went back to his childhood, when his older cousins would pin him down and tickle him mercilessly to make him say or do something he didn't want to. Then, as now, being tickled was the one thing he could not bear. Still, he could not betray his king.

Sensing the knight's internal struggle, the second behemoth attacked Gwaine's armpits. Unable to withstand the double onslaught, he began writhing and struggling against his bonds, finally breaking down in hysterical laughter. "Now we're getting somewhere," the second behemoth said, furiously dancing his fingers in the knight's sensitive underarms.

Several minutes later, Gwaine was breathless and weak from laughter. The behemoths stopped tickling, letting Gwaine slump in his chains, his head resting against the cold cell wall and his chest heaving as he gasped for breath. The woman came forward and put a gnarled hand under his chin, lifting his head so she could look in his eyes. "Are you ready to give me the information the king requires?"

Gwaine glared contemptuously at her through his long, sweaty hair. "Never!" he declared, though a bit less emphatically than before.

She cackled and withdrew her hand. "It seems I underestimated you, Sir Gwaine." Stepping back once more, she said, "Boys, it seems our knight needs a bit more persuasion."

Before Gwaine could brace himself, the torture began again. This time, the first behemoth dug into Gwaine's back, just below his shoulder blades, making him shout with laughter; he hadn't even known he was ticklish there. The second behemoth started at Gwaine's sensitive feet and then explored his body, seeking his most ticklish spots. Gwaine's helpless laughter echoed through the dungeon, punctuated by tortured shrieks when the behemoth's skilled fingers found another vulnerable spot.

"Are you ready to talk yet?" the woman asked after the torture stopped a second, third, and fourth time.

After more than an hour of torture, Gwaine couldn't answer the woman's question right away. The torture was beginning to take its toll on him. Even worse, the first behemoth had discovered the spot on his thigh that nearly drove him mad, and he had been sorely tempted to give in. When he raised his eyes to the woman's this time, there was no defiance in them, only pleading for the torture to be over. "Never," he responded weakly.

The two behemoths lunged forward to begin again, but the woman held up a hand and commanded, "Hold!" She searched Gwaine's face with evil, knowing eyes. "His will is stronger than I anticipated." She grinned at him maliciously and hissed, "I hoped it would be so. I have not had opportunity to use this spell before. Now, Sir Gwaine, I will have the pleasure of bringing you to your knees. Not only will I conquer your will and force you to betray your king, but I will destroy your pride as well."

Gwaine didn't even attempt to hide the fear in his eyes as he wondered what she planned to do. As she raised her hand towards him, her eyes glowed gold, and he realized that his earlier suspicion had been correct; she was indeed a sorceress. Just as Gwaine shouted a panicked, "No!" the woman uttered an incantation. Gwaine was enveloped by a shimmering blue-green whirlwind, and he suddenly began struggling frantically against his bonds as hysterical shrieks of laughter erupted from him. Tears streamed from his eyes as he begged and pleaded, promising anything if she would only make it stop. He couldn't bear it; every nerve in his exhausted, over-stimulated body was being mercilessly tickled at once. He was on the brink of madness, ready to confess every secret he had ever promised to keep. Unfortunately for the woman and for King Odin, she allowed the torture to continue a moment too long; before she could extract any information from him, Gwaine fainted dead away from his ordeal.


	2. Chapter 2

Gwaine, semi-conscious, became aware of his hands being unshackled and his body being lowered to the ground. Feeling hands on his ribcage and under his arms, he tensed and weakly protested, "No…please, no more…I won't tell…"

"Arthur, he's coming around," a familiar voice said close above him. His eyes fluttered open, and he saw Leon looking him over with a concerned expression on his face. As Leon ran his hands over the knight's body, checking for broken bones or other injuries, Gwaine squired and tried to push Leon's hands away, a helpless chuckle escaping his lips. Leon's eyebrows came together in mixed confusion and concern at his friend's odd reaction.

As Gwaine's eyes fluttered shut once more, Arthur crossed the cell and knelt down next to Leon, the same mixture of emotions on his face. "My God, Leon, what did they do to him?" Arthur asked, low. "I've never seen him like this."

"I don't know, SIre," Leon replied in a whisper. "He has obviously been tortured, but how? We found a whip and a club on the floor, but there's not a mark on him."

Arthur's jaw clenched, and his azure eyes flashed angrily. "I fear there was sorcery involved." He shook his head. "Sorcery and torture combined. Who knows what he may have endured?"

Gwaine stirred again and forced his eyelids open. He squinted to bring Arthur's face into focus and stammered hoarsely, "I…I told…them…nothing."

Exchanging a glance with Leon, Arthur laid a hand on Gwaine's shoulder and gave him a grim smile. "You've done well, Gwaine. Thanks to your courage and loyalty, our ambush was successful, and Odin is no longer a threat to Camelot." He gave the knight a gentle shake and went on, "Let's get you back to Gaius and let him check you over. Then we'll all enjoy a well-deserved evening at the tavern."

At the mention of the tavern, a spark flashed briefly in Gwaine's dark eyes before it was again replaced by fatigue and something resembling…shame? Leon and Percival helped the exhausted knight don first his linen shirt and then his chain mail, which proved to be a difficult task as he struggled and squirmed and protested every time their hands brushed against his body. He couldn't help it; he still felt the effects of the sorceress' evil spell on his skin. Hoisting him onto his horse likewise proved to be a challenge, as even the slightest touch sent him into fits of twitching and giggles. Arthur and the other knights exchanged perplexed glances, vacillating between amusement and concern over their friend's odd behavior.

The journey back to Camelot was strangely somber despite their victory over Odin. The usually cheerful and talkative Gwaine slumped sullen and silent in his saddle, flanked by Percival and Elyan. Arthur cast worried glances over his shoulder and said low to Leon, "I never thought I'd say this, but I actually miss Gwaine's incessant chattering."

There was no humor in Leon's chuckle as he too looked back and caught Elyan's eye. "Whatever they did to him, it appears to have affected his mind far more than his physical body."

"If Odin's taunts were true, and he had Ancelin in his service, who knows what he may have endured at her hand?" He looked back at Gwaine once more and added, "Her powers are as strong as Morgana's, if not more so, and she is infamous for bringing men to their knees, destroying their pride and in some cases their will to live. The sooner we get him to Gaius, the better."

A week had passed since Gwaine's rescue from Odin's dungeons, and the change in him was obvious and disturbing to all. The normally laid-back, good-natured, highly-social knight had all but cut himself off from everyone at Camelot. He refused to come down to the Great Hall to dine with everyone else, choosing instead to take his meals alone in his chamber, if he ate anything at all. Neither did he attend training with the other knights. His absense at the tavern likewise did not go unnoticed. The few people who had come in contact with him in the days following his ordeal had remarked about his drawn features and his vacant, haunted eyes. Even Gaius and Merlin were at a loss. Both agreed that Gwaine had not suffered any physical injury–magical or otherwise–but he had been tight-lipped at what he had endured.

Late one night, Gwaine slept fitfully, plagued by nightmares and flashbacks. His head thrashed back and forth as he tried in vain to fight off invisible hands that poked and prodded all his most vulnerable spots once more. Leon, walking wearily down the passageway at the end of third watch, heard Gwaine's tortured moans and tapped lightly on his door. Getting no response, he pushed the door open and went inside. "Gwaine?" he called in a whisper. "Gwaine, are you all right?"

"No, no more," Gwaine groaned, tossing and turning, his limbs entangled in the blankets. "Please stop…please."

Leon quickly crossed the room and grasped Gwaine's shoulders, shaking him awake. "Gwaine, Gwaine, come on, wake up. You're having a nightmare."

Gwaine awoke with a start, violently kicking at the blankets that restrained him. Leon helped him disentangle before grasping his shoulders once more. "It's all right, Gwaine. You're at Camelot. It's over."

Slowly, Gwaine's breathing returned to normal as he stared into the darkness. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat with his head in his hands for several minutes. Leon moved to sit beside his friend, placing a steadying hand on Gwaine's neck. "I just can't get it out of my head," he muttered miserably, a near sob escaping his lips. "What they did…what she did…I can't make it stop."

Leon was quiet for a moment, observing Gwaine's expression. He had never seen the knight so disturbed by something he had experienced, and he could only imagine the horrors Gwaine had been forced to endure. "Gwaine," he began softly. "I know you've experienced something horrible, and you don't want to think about it anymore, but maybe it's hurting you more to keep it to yourself. Why don't you tell me what happened? Let me help you through it." Leon was uncomfortable saying the words; he wasn't an emotional, touchy-feely person. He had the thought that maybe this was best left to someone like Merlin, but Gwaine needed someone now, and he was certain that by the time he could rouse Merlin and get him to Gwaine's quarters, the knight would have retreated into himself once more.

Gwaine's silence seemed to settle the question, and Leon guiltily felt some relief that he wouldn't have to see this man through an obviously emotional process. Just as he took away his hand and was about to leave the room, Gwaine turned to him with glassy eyes. His need to unburden himself was at that moment greater than his desire to keep his secret any longer. He whispered hoarsely, "You can tell no one." When Leon furrowed his eyebrows, Gwaine hung his head and continued, "It was humiliating. Physical pain i could have endured, but this…"

Leon's eyes widened as he regarded the young man next to him. As proud and boastful as Gwaine could sometimes be, it pained him to see his friend so broken and humiliated by his ordeal, and he was wise enough to understand how humbling it was for Gwaine to confide in him. He nodded tersely and replied, "Of course, Gwaine. You have my word."

Gwaine raised his eyes to meet Leon's, searching his face to be sure that he was in earnest. Satisfied that he was, Gwaine lowered his eyes and told Leon of the events leading up to his capture and of Odin's failed attempt to get him to reveal Arthur's battle plans. "I went too far in taunting him, and he informed me that he had those in his service who were 'skilled in the art of torture.'" He looked up at Leon, his eyes reflecting a bit of the old Gwaine as he bragged, "I wasn't worried. I knew I could withstand any amount of physical pain."Leon chuckled, relieved to see his friend acting like himself; however, his mirth soon dissolved as the spark of self-assurance was extinguished as quickly as it had spring to life. "When I saw that old hag coming down the passageway with those two ruffians, I feared I would endure no ordinary torture."

Leon's eyes narrowed as Gwaine shuddered and looked away. "It was the sorceress Ancelin, then?" he asked. When Gwaine nodded, he continued, "Arthur feared as much. What happened?"

Gwaine clenched his fists, not answering at first. At last he drew a shaky breath and ground out, "The old hag ordered them to strip me of my chain mail and tunic and shackle me to the wall."

"You couldn't fight them off?" Leon asked, knowing even as he did that the presence of a powerful sorceress would have prevented his escape even if he could have fought off the two enormous henchmen.

Gwaine shook his head. "They were both the size of Percival, with the personality of an injured wilderen. I tried to fight them off, but I could not." He paused in his story once more, and Leon noticed the tension in his expression. He reached over and laid a hand on his friend's shoulder; Gwaine flinched, and Leon quickly withdrew. After a deep breath, he continued, "When they got me chained to the wall, they drew out a whip and a club. I relaxed, knowing I could resist a beating."

"We saw them lying on the floor when we found you," he said, regarding Gwaine seriously. "But they never used them." It was a statement, not a question.

Gwaine shook his head again and ran his hands over his face. "Ancelin came over and forced me to look at her. It was as though she stared into the depths of my soul, saw my darkest fears and discovered what it would take to break my resistance…and my pride." He shuddered again as he recalled the coldness and the evil in her eyes. "And that's what they did."

For a long moment, neither man spoke. The only sound to be heard was the low moan of the wind outside. Leon shifted uneasily, sensing Gwaine's internal struggle, his hesitation to reveal whatever has occurred in that cell. He searched the depths of his own soul, wondering what it would take to bring him as low as Gwaine was now. Despite the fact that nothing came to his mind, he still felt a chill race up his spine. He shook himself and glanced over his shoulder, imagining that the shadows in the room had come to life and begun closing in. Finally,h e asked, "What…what did they do?"

Gwaine clenched his fists again before he turned his head away and mumbled something unintelligible. Even saying the words under his breath was almost more than his broken pride could withstand. When Leon leaned closer and asked Gwaine to repeat himself, Gwaine turned so quickly that the two men almost butted heads. His voice cracked as he admitted, "They tickled me."

It took a minute for the words to sink in. Did Gwaine just say they _tickled_ him? The corners of his mouth twitched as he searched Gwaine's face. He had to be joking; he had to be. A powerful sorceress and two burly, monstrous henchmen, and their choice of torture was _tickling_? And Gwaine, one of the strongest, bravest knights of Camelot had succumbed to _tickling_? He couldn't help himself; he began to laugh. When Gwaine glared at him, he held up a hand and sputtered, "Sorry…"

"Leon, it's not funny," Gwaine choked out, his worst fears being realized.

Even in the darkness, Leon could see the wildness in Gwaine's eyes and see his chest heaving in indignation. He bit his tongue to stop laughing and fought to keep his face serious as he tried once more, "Gwaine, I'm sorry. Truly, I am. I'm just having a hard time picturing…" His shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. With difficulty, he finished, "The mighty Sir Gwaine being brought down by a feather." He realized he had just lied to Gwaine; he had no trouble picturing the scene Gwaine described. He doubled over with laughter.

Gwaine stood up angrily, stalked across the room and punched the wall so hard that he split the skin on his knuckles, but that was nothing compared to the injury to his pride. "They didn't use a feather," he squeaked out, even more embarrassed when he heard his voice. He knew it had been a mistake telling anyone. Now Leon would tell Arthur and the other knights, and he would go down in history as Gwaine the Giggling Knight.

Leon got himself under control and tried to apologize, but Gwaine dashed past him, giving him a shove that sent him sprawling on the floor. "Gwaine, come back," he called, but his words fell on deaf ears.

Gwaine ran out of the castle and out to the stables, where he untied his horse and rode off through the gates and into the woods beyond Camelot, vowing never to return.


	3. Chapter 3

The middle of the following afternoon, Gwaine sat in the woods with his back against a large oak tree, staring off into the distance at nothing in particular. Although he had calmed down somewhat, he was still angry and embarrassed over what had passed between him and Leon the previous night. He knew he couldn't stay out in these woods indefinitely without decent shelter for himself and his horse. As it was, he only wore his breeches and the thin linen shirt he had worn to bed, and in his haste, he had neglected to grab his sword, his dagger, or even his cloak, so he had spent the remainder of last night cold and vulnerable to the elements and at the mercy of whoever or whatever might be wandering in the woods. Fortunately–or maybe unfortunately, depending on how he looked at it–no harm had come to him. He chuckled grimly as he tried to decide whether it was worse to be exposed to the elements out in the woods, or to be exposed to the taunts of his fellow knights if he returned to Camelot.

As he sat contemplating what he should do, his horse suddenly raised its head and whickered softly. At the same time, he heard someone approaching through the trees. Knowing he didn't have time to adequately conceal himself and his horse, he crouched down as best he could and silently peered through the branches to see who it was. When he saw it was Wynne traipsing through the woods, pausing every so often to pluck something from the underbrush, he relaxed slightly; she was likely gathering herbs for Gaius. He sat back down against his tree, sighing with resignation. He was fairly certain she was not out here by accident, but he just didn't have the will to actively avoid her; he decided to sit quietly, willing her to go about her business and not disturb him.

Of course, luck was not on his side. She had heard his horse, and after cutting a few handfuls of plants and tossing them into her basket, she headed in his direction. As her footsteps came closer, Gwaine feigned sleep, hoping she would take the hint and leave him be. Wynne's soft footfalls came through the underbrush, pausing just on the other side of the tree before stepping slowly around to where he sat. He heard her kneel down in front of him, and he kept his breathing steady as though he were asleep.

Wynne set her basket on the ground next to her and sat down, gazing intently at Gwaine's face. She knew he was feigning sleep to avoid talking to her, but she was loathe to disturb him. Even with the lines of tension creasing his face, he was still unbearably handsome, and she would be content to gaze at him all day. She wondered, as Leon had, what horrors he had endured in Odin's dungeon. Chewing her lip thoughtfully, she contemplated just leaving, afraid he'd be angry for invading his privacy. _No_, she finally told herself;_ I came out here to try talking to him, and that's what I'm going to do_. She reached out hesitantly and touched his shoulder, whispering, "Gwaine?"

He did not respond, but she felt an almost imperceptible flinch of his muscles beneath her fingertips.

She sighed and tried once more, shaking his shoulder and saying a bit louder, "Gwaine? Please talk to me."

Gwaine opened his eyes to look at her. She gasped at the hardness she saw there. Gone was the jaunty sparkle or even the angry flash she was accustomed to seeing. She held his stony gaze, refusing to look away or be ignored. Gwaine's eyes narrowed as he looked at her; at this moment, the stubborn streak he usually admired in Wynne was nothing short of irritating. "Just leave me alone, Wynne. I don't want your company. I don't want anything from you." The words sounded horrible, harsher than he'd intended, and the flash of hurt he saw in her eyes pierced his heart.

Wynne's lower lip quivered at his hurtful words, but she didn't miss the momentary spark of regret in Gwaine's dark eyes. She knew his words were only a cover for his pain, and that he was trying to push her away to avoid the risk that she would laugh at him and further shred his pride as Leon had inadvertently done. Well, he wouldn't get rid of her that easily. Reaching into her basket, she pulled out something wrapped in a cloth and held it out to him. "Not even an apple pie?"

A brief light in his eyes gave her hope; she knew he wouldn't be able to resist his favorite dessert, and judging by the largely untouched meal trays that had been coming back to the kitchens, she was certain he was hungry. He turned his head away slightly, trying to convince himself he didn't want the pie, but Wynne took the cloth away, showing the flaky golden crust. A whiff of spicy, sweet apple filling drifted to his nose, and his mouth began to water. He had only had a handful of berries since his meager supper last night, and Wynne's pies were heavenly. Still, he didn't want to give in. Just as he was about to refuse, his traitorous stomach growled loudly. The corners of Wynne's mouth twitched, and she set the pie down close to him before retreating slowly, as she might have if she were dealing with a frightened animal.

Gwaine eyed the pie, hesitating only a moment before giving in to his growling stomach. He watched Wynne warily as he picked up the pie and set it down in his lap. A low, satisfied hum escaped his lips as he realized it was still warm. He picked it up almost reverently and held it to his nose to inhale deeply, taking in the aroma of the freshly-baked apples and pastry. Unable to resist any longer, he took a large bite. "Mmmmm, good…" he murmured.

Wynne sat watching him, her chin propped on her hands, as he quickly devoured the pie and then licked his fingers. She smiled in satisfaction as he leaned back against the tree once more, closed his eyes and rubbed his stomach. "How was it?" she ventured quietly, although his expression said more than mere words could.

At the sound of her voice, the guarded expression was back, and he simply said, "It was fine. Thank you."

Wynne's face fell in disappointment. She had hoped he would tease her as he always did about needing more sugar or less cinnamon. The fact that he did not told her that some vital part of Gwaine had been injured, or worse, by his experience. There had to be some way to get back the Gwaine she knew and…loved. Gwaine's eyes closed once more, and she sensed he was shutting her out. She could not, would not, let that happen. "Gwaine? Please…"

Without opening his eyes, he interrupted flatly, "Wynne, I appreciate the pie; it was delicious. But I still don't want any company. Be a good girl and take your herbs back to Gaius, if he was even the one who sent you, and leave me be."

Wynne's eyes flashed indignantly at his words; she was chagrined that he had figured her out so easily, as well as angry that he had just given up. Throwing patience out the window, she hurled the cloth at Gwaine's head and exploded, "So that's it? You're Camelot's greatest knight, but the first time someone gets the best of you, you shut yourself away and sulk like a spoiled child. I guess you're too proud to let your friends help you. I'd thought so much more of you, Gwaine, but I guess I was wrong." She had hoped her words would light a spark to Gwaine's injured pride, but she wasn't ready for the intensity of his reaction.

Gwaine's eyes flew open, and he suddenly lunged towards her, grabbing her shoulders roughly and bringing his face within inches of hers. The angry flash was in his eyes, and she couldn't suppress the fear that rose within her as she realized that his anger was being directed at her. She could smell the apple pie on his breath as he growled, low, "Letting my friends _help_ me? Is _that_ what you call it?" There was no humor in his harsh laugh. "I confided to_ my friend_ Leon what I endured in Odin's dungeon, and do you know how my friend_ helped_ me? He_ laughed_ at me. He made_ jokes_. And I'm sure he told every knight in Camelot about Gwaine the Giggling Knight, Gwaine, the mighty knight who can withstand the blows of a club and the blade of a sword, but is brought to his knees by the stroke of a feather."

Wynne saw the wildness in his eyes, wildness that was a product of his hurt and rage; that wildness was reflected in her own eyes, but in her eyes was pure fear. Gwaine was truly unhinged and speaking nonsense. Why was he going on about giggling and feathers? She sputtered, "Gwaine, stop it, you're scaring me. What are you talking about?" Suddenly, realization hit her, and she exclaimed in horror, "My God, Gwaine, they tickled you, didn't they?"

Taken aback by her response, he loosened his grip for a moment before letting her go forcefully as he slid back against the tree, hugging himself. "As if you didn't know," he growled contemptuously. "I'm sure Leon announced it to everyone, and all of Camelot is having a good laugh at my expense."

Wynne closed her eyes for a second, realizing why Gwaine had shut himself away and then stormed out of the castle after speaking to Leon. Having endured three older brothers tickling her till she wet herself in front of her cousins one day, she understood his humiliation. "Oh, Gwaine," she murmured tearfully. "I'm so sorry." When he looked up at her in surprise, she saw that some of the wildness had left his eyes. She inched closer to him and touched his shoulder. "Gwaine, you've got to believe me; Leon hasn't told a soul what you told him. I mean…" she amended, "…he told Arthur that you'd told him what happened, but he kept your confidence. Leon feels terrible that he laughed at you. He thought you were just being…Gwaine…and jesting with him. If he'd known you were serious…"

Some of the wildness returned to his eyes, but it was a wildness borne of hoping her words were true. "So I'm not the laughingstock of Camelot?" he asked desperately.

Wynne shook her head. When she saw his features soften and some of the tension leave his shoulders, she threw her arms around him and held him tight. After a moment of surprise, he slowly put his arms around her and leaned his head against hers, letting out a long, quavering breath. After several minutes, Gwaine drew back, looking less tortured, but his expression still reflecting uncharacteristic vulnerability. Neither knew what to say for a long moment as they sat together. Finally, Wynne blurted out, "Was it truly awful, Gwaine?" _Of course it was awful, you dolt_, Wynne chastised herself.

Gwaine shuddered and tensed up, putting up his guard once more. But remembering Wynne's compassionate response, he ventured, "It was." He sighed, not really wanting to relive the whole thing again, but she deserved to know. He rushed through his capture, his exchange with Odin, seeing his torturers for the first time and realizing one was a sorceress. "Those behemoths chained me to the wall and found every ticklish spot I know of, and some I didn't. I was laughing and squealing like a little girl…sorry." He glanced at her with an apologetic smile; she just shrugged. "When I refused to talk after an hour, the old hag cast some spell on me. It felt like a thousand hands and feathers tickling me everywhere at once. I couldn't bear it any longer, and…I fainted."

Wynne shuddered, but said nothing; what could she say? She reached out and tentatively squeezed his hand. He returned the squeeze and continued, "She vowed to bring me to my knees and destroy my pride, and she did. What man wants to admit to being conquered by something like that?" He buried his face in his hands. "What am I going to do when everyone else finds out?"

Wynne moved closer to hiim and laid a comforting hand on his back, unsure of what to say. A part of her felt that Gwaine was being melodramatic, but she recalled how she'd felt when her brothers had made sport of her, and she relented. With a sigh, she said resolutely, "The way I see it, you have two choices." He looked up at her curiously, and she went on, "You can wait till someone inevitably finds out and it gets around, or you can meet it head on and tell your story yourself. Either way, you're probably going to have to bear some ribbing and some jokes, but your true friends will stand beside you."

Gwaine grimaced and muttered, "Just what I want to endure, months of being called 'Gwaine the Giggling Knight.'"

"Will you stop?" Wynne responded, throwing her hands up in frustration. Her face flushed as she lowered her head and said, "At least that's not as bad as 'Maiden of the Moat.'" That was the name the squires had come up with for her after she had fallen into the moat catching frogs with the younger boys.

A choking sound made her jerk her head up. Gwaine was shaking with suppressed laughter; obviously he had heard that nickname and found it humorous, especially since he had been the one who had pulled her out of the water. "Or Lady WyniFROG," he sputtered, and then burst out laughing at her shocked expression.

"What?!" she exploded. She had never heard that one, and she wondered who had coined it. As she watched Gwaine rolling on the ground, laughing helplessly, she knew she should be angry at him for poking fun at her, but she was so happy to see the old Gwaine that she couldn't bear to yell at him.

Finally, he sat up, still laughing, and pulled her roughly into a hug. At first Wynne struggled to get away, still irritated that he found her annoying nickname so amusing, but the sound of his laughter was intoxicating after a week of his emotionless skulking that soon she was giggling along with him. When they both finally stopped laughing and sat up, weak from laughter and leaning against each other for support, Wynne glanced up at Gwaine and said, "I'm so glad you're back, Gwaine."

Gwaine chuckled sheepishly and replied, "So am I, lass."

A voice next to them made them both jump. "And so am I." While the two friends were lost in their mirth, Sir Leon had approached on horseback without them noticing. He sat watching them with amusement, obviously wondering what had brought about such a change in Gwaine.

"Sir Leon," Wynne exclaimed, jumping away from Gwaine, embarrassed that someone had seen them sprawled on the ground together.

"Leon," Gwaine repeated casually, not at all bothered by the other knight seeing them together. "We didn't hear you approaching."

As he dismounted and knelt down next to Gwaine, Leon laughed and joked, "I would think not, the way you two were laughing." Suddenly spying the empty pie plate, he glanced at Wynne, who was still looking quite abashed, and teased, "Oh, I see there was apple pie involved; no wonder Gwaine is so happy."

Gwaine laughed and replied, "The only thing better than dreaming of apple pie is actually eating apple pie." He glanced at Wynne and teased, "Even if it did have too much cinnamon." Wynne picked up the cloth that had covered the pie and threw it at Gwaine again, playfully this time.

Leon laughed at their exchange before putting on serious face. "Her methods of getting you to open up were obviously much better than mine." When Gwaine looked up at Leon, some of the hurt and hardness was back in his eyes. Leon continued, "Gwaine, I truly am sorry for laughing at you. I thought you were just making a joke because you didn't want to tell me what really happened. I didn't know you were serious."

Gwaine was silent for a long moment, and Wynne exchanged a nervous look with Leon. He wasn't going to return to his morose mood, was he? Finally, he met Leon's eyes and replied, "Think nothing of it, Leon. I suppose I would have reacted the same way." He glanced at Wynne and smiled at her. "Wynne told me you kept my confidence. I appreciate that."

Leon smiled grimly and joked, "I may be an insensitive lout, but I always keep my word."

_Leon an insensitive lout?_ Wynne thought to herself. Without thinking, she blurted out, "Sir Leon, you're not insensitive!" Both men turned to her curiously, and she quickly added, "I mean, I guess if you've never been held down and tickled, you couldn't know how awful it is…" She saw a playful glimmer in Gwaine's eyes, and she blushed, wondering what he was thinking.

Leon seemed not to notice her discomfort. He looked at her blankly and replied, "I suppose you're right, Wynne. I've never experienced that. I don't even know if I'm ticklish." After a moment, he glanced up through the trees. Turning to Gwaine, he said hopefully, "It will be getting dark before long. Will you be coming back to the castle?"

Gwaine's expression was unreadable as he caught Wynne's eye. She returned his look with the same hope that was reflected in Leon's eyes, hope that he would put this humiliating experience behind him and return to Camelot. Finally, he nodded his assent. Leon's face split into a wide grin as he clapped Gwaine on the back, and Wynne clapped her hands and squealed before throwing her arms around Gwaine once more, not caring if Leon saw.

Leon stood and suggested, "Wynne, why don't you ride with Gwaine? We can't have you walking back to Camelot."

Wynne kept her expression neutral as she replied, "All right," but inside she was ecstatic, not only because Gwaine was coming back with them, but also because she would be sitting on a horse with Gwaine's arms wrapped around her.

Leon turned to walk towards his horse, but he never made it there. Before either Leon or Wynne knew what was happening, Gwaine leapt to his feet, grabbed Leon around the waist and wrestled him to the ground. Wynne let out a startled scream, and Leon shouted, "Gwaine, what the bloody hell are you doing?"

Gwaine's eyes gleamed devilishly as he shoved his hands beneath Leon's chain mail and began tickling his waist. "You said you didn't know if you're ticklish," he laughed. "Let's find out, shall we?"

"What…? Gwaine…stop…" Leon sputtered, struggling not to give in to the laughter building inside. He tried futilely to dislodge Gwaine's hands, but the smaller knight managed to push his hands up further to tickle Leon's ribs. Leon could hold out no longer; he erupted into fits of laughter and begged him to stop.

Wynne sat on the ground, half amused and half perplexed at the two men rolling around on the ground acting like children. She busied herself by gathering up the empty pie plate and the cloth and arranging them in her basket of herbs, all the while wondering if she should tell them to stop.

"Do you yield?" Gwaine laughed. Leon's face was beet red from laughter, and tears flowed out of his eyes and down his temples into his hair. Not giving him a chance to respond, he glanced over at Wynne and called out, "Wynne, come and pin his arms down so he can see what it's really like."

Wynne's eyes widened in shock at his suggestion. Even if she were strong enough to restrain Sir Leon, she couldn't do that to a knight of Camelot. She giggled nervously and shook her head, backing away and hoping Gwaine wouldn't come after her next.

Leon finally managed to push away from Gwaine and scrambled backwards to lean against a nearby tree, where he sat catching his breath. Gwaine crouched close by, watching him and chuckling. He feigned a lunge, and Leon drew up his legs and held out his hands. "No!" he shouted desperately. "I yield. You win; I'm obviusly quite ticklish." He looked at Gwaine with something resembling respect. "You withstood an hour of that? While chained to a wall?"

Gwaine gave him a tight-lipped smile and nodded, then got to his feet and offered his hand first to Leon and then to Wynne. His eyes gleamed mischievously as he looked down at her. He chuckled at her nervous expression before throwing his arm around her, helping her onto his horse, and handing her basket up to her. He and Leon exchanged a look of camraderie as they both mounted their horses and headed back towards Camelot.


End file.
